


A Corsair and a Buccaneer

by oh_cripe_my_fish



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Pirate England and France, These two are complicated, not an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_cripe_my_fish/pseuds/oh_cripe_my_fish
Summary: There was nothing England and France anticipated more than running into each other at sea.





	A Corsair and a Buccaneer

**Author's Note:**

> Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya.  
> You can blame Fall Out Boy - The Phoenix for this drabble.

Arthur's eyes didn't blink against the pelting rain. Instead, he held his head high and shouted orders at the top of his lungs, hat barely staying on his head against the gusty ocean wind. A rumble of thunder followed a flash of lightening that had struck the land along the blustery coast. On the swell of the next few waves, he threw his hat high into the air, letting the wind sweep it away.

"Bloody feathers," he grumbled, the entirety of the accessory had been annoying him to no end as he stumbled around the ship, preparing to align the vessel with the other that was fast in passing. He slammed two raw red hands - raw from hanging onto split rope as the angry sea threw them around, as well as from the stinging cold water and air - onto the helm of the ship, giving it a mighty yank to line his vessel up with the one flying the red, white and blue tricolour next to it. The crunching and snapping of wood could be heard as the sterns collided, the heavy cedar and oak at the front of each ship splintering and flying through the air from the collision. Arthur's crew simply ducked if something zoomed their way and went on normally about opening the canon ports and lowering the barrels of gun powder like the fearless men they were.

"Let us blow these French bastards up, shall we? Arthur cried out, the crew responding with enthusiastic cheers over the stinging cold air rushing in, out and past their ears. " Alright, await the word!" he inhaled and readied his lungs to scream the order, the corner of his lip curling in smug satisfaction. Would Francis ever learn? Every time they crossed paths like this, Francis never stood a chance. Arthur was egotistic enough to declare he owned the seas, but it was admirable how Francis still stubbornly challenged that, even with all the humiliation Arthur had dealt him in the past.

"Ready the canons," The last of the port holes slammed open, "A-And-!"

He didn't get to finish his order. The wet cold tip of a sword slipped lightly across the skin of his neck, causing the words to die in his throat, and a light chuckle sounded in his left ear. "Bonsoir Rosbif, comment vas-tu? I 'ope you are well?" The warm breath on the back of his ear caused the hairs to stand up on the back of Arthur's neck in a sudden surge of alarm.

"Christ!" Arthur screeched in surprise, scrambling around in Francis' hold only to be met with the presumptuous smile of the fellow nation's face, amused eyes gazing into his languidly. "W-what? H-How did you-?"

Francis ignored him, tilting his head innocently and blinking water out of his long eyelashes as if he hadn't realised Arthur had spoken. Arthur's fingers twitched with the urge the strangle him, despising the way he both loved and hated his foes ever-changing tactics.

"Change of plans mes hommes, raid the ship!"

And Arthur and his crew watched with horror as the French promptly responded to Francis' demands by swinging onto the deck of his ship.

A hand snaked under Arthur's overcoat and he was disarmed by nimble fingers. Arthur scowled when his plethora of hidden knives tumbled from his artillery belt, slidding across the slippery, violently tilting deck. Next his sword was removed from it's holster, and the Frenchman hummed curiously as he admired Arthur's pistol. The fine weapon was tossed quickly overboard.

Francis' lips brushed the curve of Arthur's raw red ear as the chaos of fighting ensued. A shot was fired, a head cut off, a man stabbed. They both ignored the clangs and clatters of steel on steel, harmonized with French and English cries. The Englishman could hear the delighted smirk in his immediate company's low, quiet voice, "And You, mon cher? You are coming with me."

From that day on Arthur knew never to think himself so high above the French nation again, not even when all the odds seemed to be stacked in Arthur's favour. The Englishman could be brash and burly man at times, with victory after victory under his belt, and to him Francis seemed like a prissy, preened, narcissistic, cowardly, impudent and weak man - yet Francis was his equal in every way. The Englishman had qualities Francis lacked and the Frenchman had qualities Arthur lacked. He was slier than Arthur, sneakier, a well rounded and better cheater. What he lacked in strength, he made up for in stamina.

It all made for a formidable adversary. And Arthur's love for the man was so very twisted and tangled, but undoubtedly there. Only Francis and Francis alone could make him feel so many different things at once, lightheaded and breathless from the smothering proximity, fists shaking and chest heaving with anger and the desire to vanquish. Only Arthur and Arthur alone could make Francis's heart throb in his chest, for it to crash and burn in the pit of his stomach moments later, make his gut feel like it was swarming with winged insects, to be replaced with a sickening nervous twist threatening to squeeze out his stomach contents...They played a dangerous game, and both were far too good and too far gone to quit it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Lo and behold another repost! 
> 
> Francis is supposed to be a corrupt French corsair, confined mainly to the Mediterranean and initially used by the French crown to raid and sink enemy ships in their territory. I wasn't so sure about Arthur and settled on a buccaneer.
> 
> I'm really not quite sure if I rated this correctly. There's implied violence going on in the background, but I wouldn't say it's graphically written? I don't know. Please let me know if I rated this correctly and selected the right warnings. I'm new to posting on Ao3, it'll really help me in the future and I'll be happy to correct the rating and warnings on this fic.
> 
> I was reluctant to tag this as France/England as this isn't Fruk in the romantic, ship-y sense. I hope you don't mind. It's really just a strange take on the love-hate cannon France-England relationship, cranked up a thousand. These two have such a long, broad history together that it forever and fatefully intertwines them. They're so addicted to the competition that it's become their fuel.... aaaand that's basically this drabble summed up.
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading!


End file.
